Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof

​Ah, Rees-Mogg, another devout and sincere one, erudite too, concerned for the minutiae of language.  Does he not live his religion?

Regarding same-sex marriage, Rees-Mogg has stated that he is opposed to it and "not proud" of it being legal,[182] and that it has alienated traditional supporters of the party.[183][184] In 2013, Rees-Mogg said that on the issue of same-sex marriage, he took his "whip from the hierarchy of the Roman Catholic Church rather than the [Conservative] Whip's Office".[185] He later elaborated that in his view "marriage is a sacrament and the decision of what is a sacrament lies with the Church, not with Parliament."[186]

The last line is just plain weird.  Then Parliament had no right to legalize registry office marriages between a man and a woman?

But a matter of conscience – based on a piece of the Old Testament.  The New Testament appears to have passed him by.  The conscience is markedly less tender with regard to the New, the bit that matters to those who actually try to life a Christian life, follow in the footsteps of Christ, members of the Sally Army, for instance.  Sell all thou hast and give to the poor, for instance.  It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of the needle than for a rich man to enter the Kingdom of God.  Or he could love his neighbour as himself.  No, no, I don’t expect miracles, but Jesus did actually think the five thousand should be fed, as opposed to those of his so-called followers who think they should have starved.  Should have worked harder, shouldn’t they.

It is of course as ever a great and mighty wonder to observe those who have dedicated their lives to making lots of money condemning as money-grubbing and venal those who have not, who may or may not be spending their existence doing something more intellectually and emotionally absorbing, who may be slogging it out at whatever crap job they can get.

As it is a matter of huge and cynical entertainment that one such as Rees-Mogg who doubtless claims to uphold the Christian tradition appears oblivious to what that tradition is.  There is nothing in the NT to suggest that the good life, the best life for a man, lies in making money. 

Whosoever will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow me. 35For whosoever will save his life shall lose it; but whosoever shall lose his life for my sake and the gospel's, the same shall save it. 36 For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?

Ah, good Christians, the people who give Christianity a bad name.  To listen to them, you’d think Jesus spent his Ministry inveighing about homosexuality and abortion.  In fact he mentioned neither.   

Could they not go around telling people to love one another and other teachings of Jesus?  Ooh no, I don’t think they could do that.  That would be wholly inimical to the policies of the Conservative Party.

19 Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal:
20 But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal:
21 For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.

‘The organized charity scrimped and iced/In the name of a cautious, statistical Christ.’

25Therefore I say unto you, Take no thought for your life, what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink; nor yet for your body, what ye shall put on. Is not the life more than meat, and the body than raiment? 26Behold the fowls of the air: for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not much better than they? 27Which of you by taking thought can add one cubit unto his stature? 28And why take ye thought for raiment? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin: 29And yet I say unto you, That even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. 30Wherefore, if God so clothe the grass of the field, which to day is, and to morrow is cast into the oven, shall he not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith? 31Therefore take no thought, saying, What shall we eat? or, What shall we drink? or, Wherewithal shall we be clothed? 32(For after all these things do the Gentiles seek:) for your heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things. 33But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you.
34Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.

Why doesn’t something interesting and entertaining happen, such as the CofE takes the government to court over persons who haven’t spent their lives making money, pointing out they were only doing what Jesus said.

Back to UCH: dirty creatures who don’t stand upright.  Slave-collars around their necks, chains around their ankles, chains running from the collar to the anklets making impossible upright posture.  Further chains running between their legs on which they can rub themselves off on how obedient and without the evil of self-will they are, as they press themselves into the ground before avatars of self-will who believes themselves able to force themselves on others.  They really expect me to be a filthy little submissive too, a creature of another’s will who is as sick and dirty as they are, abandoning all fact, reason, morality.  Whatever you say o master, is your will not law, o master, we yearn to obey o master, we know nothing but your will o master.  Whatever you say o master, we are as naught before your greatness, o master, the humble instruments of your purpose, o master, and if you decree democracy does not exist, is a silly joke, the invention of a mad cripple, if you decree she must be crippled and destroyed, then we can only accord with your superior wisdom, o master.    Then, being persons of Leftish disposition, they probably go off to meetings demanding reparations for slavery, these indecent perverted animals rightly and accurately described for they have surrendered being human and of course surrendered all responsibility for their behaviour – oh but we were only doing what we were told -  who expect me to crawl to the arbitrary unaccountable and so criminal power of a cowardly psychopath who hasn’t even got the balls to show himself in public, all fawning of this piece of offal, protecting, upholding an animal normal civilized people would think speedily consigned to Broadmoor, sickening obscene creatures who think I should accept it all, accept I am a  piece of property with no right to my own mind and body.  Religion is one word for this.  North Korea is of course another.    

I think they conceal and protect some slimy diseased sexually perverted animal of a priest, a grotesque sicko incapable of seeing me as anything other than an extension of this filthy vile animal self, his to do with what he wishes, a child, to whom naturally all these vile brutes from our wonderful faith communities grovel, brought up from birth to be slaves, to think independent activity of heart and mind evil, to accept an arbitrary ceiling on existence of sick drivel.  That’s what Blair thinks is wonderful about them.

I am an Englishwoman and a British subject.  Anyone who put me in the hands of, at the mercy of, made me subject to, a priest of the Roman Catholic Church, an entity with no political authority, should be make public exhibition of pour encourager les autres, even if his name is Tony Blair.  Then you can prosecute the dirty cunt for conspiracy to pervert the course of justice, the overthrow of democracy, giving aid and comfort to the Queen’s enemies, causing grievous bodily harm and attempting my mental and physical destruction.

I write about love, sex, death, freedom and democracy.  I create women who are actually people, individuals.  The last three the filth monkeys hate, fear and despise, whatever the foul brutes, the filthy fascist perverts.  What they teach is slavery, submission, grovelling, crawling to whatever filth and sickness is fed you.  You cannot at one and the same also be democratic and free.  People insisting on being free on having minds of their own and exercising them independently is what brought the filth crashing down.  They hate intelligence, hate reason, hate freedom of thought. The first three are that on which they think they have a monopoly and no silly little girl, no stupid little woman can possibly have anything to say on these subjects contrary to their drivel.

Such as liberty is a function of love.  Control is a function of self-will.   Self-realization is or is not self-forgetting. Much rests on that. You are not self-forgetting by definition if you are forcing others to obey you, placing to the fore the seedy clamourings of your self. Similarly 'God's mercy' is an exercise in self-stroking, whether attributed to God or claimed by the religious, a sitting there stroking yourself at how virtuous you are being because you are 'showing mercy'. If you love other people, you don't want to do that from which you are 'mercifully' refraining in the first place.  You don’t want to force ‘you’ into what someone else is, you recognize others as equal in rights, individuals running on separate tracks, with their own set of experience and knowledge, thoughts, feelings.

The only legitimate use of power is to withhold it from those who force themselves on others. 

Other threads here of course are the conviction of the Catholic Nazi savage that I ‘must be’ a Jew because I have Jewish relations and well I mean, to the dirty peasant ape, no proper English persons could have married Jews and anyway to the jabber-monkey, wouldn’t have been allowed, would it.  Whom do you filth think would have stopped it?  You are in a civilized country now; the Irish Catholic Nazi savage.  The other thread of course is how many of our wonderful fascist butcher murderer Irish doctors and nurses are IRA-supporters.

Don’t even bother.  My great-grandmother was definitely Irish as were other sacred ancestors.  The modern Irish are some of the coolest people on the planet. That doesn’t mean there are no deep, dark, dirty bogs remaining out of which creatures like Whelan and McGuckin have crawled.

Though possibly to the reflective of the sickoids my attribution of attested extra-normal experience to essentially physics, an undoubtedly strange universe we do not yet fully understand, is worst of all.  There is no need of this God probably quite well-meaning people invented to explain it.

So a senior nurse manager was offended and all the little nursies swarmed like a plague of evil flies, blustering and whining babbling their drivel behind closed doors, thus displayed their complete ignorance of history, politics, philosophy, language, and behind them the second ranks cooing over them, egging them on, manipulating them to further evil, pure cunt like Goldstone not wanting democracy to intrude on his shit-hole, all of them absolutely insufferable, convinced they know everything about everything, being Doctor and Nurse confers omniscience and of course omnipotence, sweaty smelly little animals who think they dictate to me what I may, what I may think, what I may write, what I may be, whether I may walk and run, cowardly cockroaches who crawl around in the dark behind closed doors where no-one can reach them, no-one can challenge them, incapable of the analysis of ideas, incapable of independent thought, a  joke.    What do they think we do in the Faculty of Arts, learn by rote, read moving our lips, like they do, a word a minute.   Of course Nurse Boden knows everything about language, as she does about academic education.  Well imagine it sticking out its fat pigeon-chest squawking: Ai – eeyurk – will not have mai – eeyurk – nurses upset.  Then teach the filthy brutes the rudiments of democracy,  reason and civilized behaviour.

​All of this of course the purpose of the ‘expansion of the universities’, to create a fake professional class of the stupid, irrational, ignorant and illiterate who would turn on people like me and tear us apart, howl down all fact, reason, morality, shit on intelligence and learning and so leave the path clear to total corruption, make it the norm it now is. Filth, absolute filth, nothing clean about them. 

Labour didn’t want me.  What it’s got is Rees-Mogg instead.  I think I can allow myself a certain amount of Schadenfreude there.  And Corbyn, McDonnell and Abbott, of course, depending on which part of Labour is at issue.  Can't have democracy, can we, can't have people free to challenge power, can't have people free to speak.  No, the dirty little fascist monkey Blair didn't like that at all, filthy little animal with its mouth full of Pope-cock.  It just didn't like the New Marxism at all.  So it's got the old one.

Recent developments have shown how New Labour's values have developed in a way that is inimical to traditional liberties. John Mortimer, barrister, playwright and lifelong Labour supporter, claims he has witnessed over his lifetime a slow improvement in the humanity of the law until the advent of the present Labour government, which "seems to have been born without a single libertarian instinct".
I was hardly alone in observing your filthy government, Blair, a government the underlying premiss of which appeared to be, ‘how much freedom might we deign to permit people’.  That’s not actually quite how it works.  If freedom is within someone else’s remit, it is not freedom.

Oh by the way, concerning a charge of attempted murder, just tick the boxes: 
Specific aggravating factors
Factors indicating higher culpability
the fact that the victim was particularly vulnerable, for example, because of age or disability
mental or physical suffering inflicted on the victim
the abuse of a position of trust
the use of duress or threats against another person to facilitate the commission of the offence
the fact that the victim was providing a public service or performing a public duty
Sentencing Council

Certainly four out of five and I should suspect five out of five.

Of course the Tories have for many years now been wilfully bring about the destruction of the poor, the elderly, the disabled and other drains on the public purse, many of whom will have spent 30-40 years paying into that purse.  This is no more the old Conservative Party than McDonnell's rabble is the old Labour Party, however much people on the Left may think same old Tories.  Old Tories had standards. Their attitude to 'have-nots' might have been offensive, infuriating, patronizing, but they recognized a duty to assist.  

 Stephen Smith, 64, from Liverpool, has chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, osteoarthritis, an enlarged prostate and uses a colostomy bag to go to the toilet.
Nevertheless, he failed a Department for Work and Pensions (DWP) work capability assessment (WCA) in 2017, which meant that his employment support allowance (ESA) payments were stopped. Instead, he was told to sign on to receive a £67 a week jobseeker’s allowance, visit the jobcentre once a week and prove he was looking for work.
Smith, who was living alone, told the Liverpool Echo: “I could only make it to the kitchen to make food once a day. I had no muscles in the back of my leg, which meant I couldn’t stand up at all and had to lean or sit down all the time, but they were telling me I was fit for work.”
With nowhere else to turn, he contacted the Casa community centre and his case was taken up by Terry Craven, a benefit claims adviser. Opinions were sought from two doctors, who confirmed that Smith experienced significant difficulty and pain when completing simple movements and daily activities.
A note written by one of them stated: “It is my opinion that Mr Smith could not walk 20 metres without pain or exhaustion.”
The opinions were submitted as evidence to bolster Smith’s case but in January last year his appeal was rejected by the DWP. It informed him that he had not scored the requisite number of points for him to be deemed as having limited capability for work.
With Craven’s assistance, he continued to fight his case and won the chance to challenge it at a tribunal just over 12 months after his appeal was rejected.
In the interim, Smith’s health deteriorated further. He contracted pneumonia and was taken to hospital. Photographs of him during his stay in hospital, obtained by the Echo, showed him looking emaciated.
Craven said: “Around December time me and my wife went to check in on him and my wife said ‘if we don’t do something now, he’s not long for this world’.”
Despite his poor health, Smith was forced to get a pass to allow him to leave hospital and go to the tribunal to fight his case. Fortunately, having seen Smith’s condition for himself, the judge stated that his mobility and health problems meant that he satisfied the requirement for ESA.
Smith said that without the help of Craven and others at Casa, he “probably wouldn’t be here today. I had nowhere to turn. They have saved my life.”
The WCA has long been blighted by controversy. It has been widely criticised as error-prone and mechanistic, often causing harm to the sick and disabled claimants who are obliged to undergo it. Statistics published in 2015 showed that almost 90 people a month were dying after being declared fit for work.
After the Echo published Smith’s story, the DWP apologised and said he would receive ESA backpay.
A spokesperson said: “We are sorry for the experience Mr Smith has had and we are committed to ensuring that people with health conditions get the support they’re entitled to.
“Following the independent tribunal’s ruling, he is now receiving full ESA support. While Mr Smith continued to receive benefits and support during his appeal, we can confirm he will shortly receive all back payments for ESA due.”
https://www.theguardian.com/society/2019/feb/04/dwp-apologise-for-telling-seriously-ill-man-to-find-a-job
A man with multiple debilitating illnesses who was denied benefits and deemed fit to work, sparking a national outcry over the government’s welfare system, has died.
Stephen Smith, 64, who had chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, osteoarthritis and an enlarged prostate that left him in chronic pain, made headline news earlier this year. Shocking pictures showed him emaciated in hospital with pneumonia as his weight dropped to six stone, leaving him barely able to walk.
He failed a Department for Work and Pensions (DWP) work capability assessment in 2017, which meant that his employment support allowance (ESA) payments were stopped. Instead, he was told to sign on to receive a £67 a week jobseeker’s allowance, visit the jobcentre once a week and prove that he was looking for work.
The man’s plight, first reported by the Liverpool Echo, prompted widespread outrage and an apology from the DWP.
A friend of Smith confirmed to the Guardian that he had died last Monday and that his family had asked for privacy. One friend, quoted by the Liverpool Echo, said Smith had never recovered from pneumonia. “He was a good soul of the earth. He would do anything for anyone,” they added.
News of Smith’s death prompted renewed anger over his treatment. Within hours, nearly 300 people had taken to the local newspaper’s social media pages to express their disgust. One said it was “absolutely heartbreaking” and added: “RIP poor poor man, you should never [have] been put through this.”
Smith, who lived alone, said in February that he did not know where to turn as his health deteriorated. “I could only make it to the kitchen to make food once a day. I had no muscles in the back of my leg, which meant I couldn’t stand up at all, and had to lean or sit down all the time, but they were telling me I was fit for work.”
Smith’s case was taken up by Liverpool’s Casa community centre and Terry Craven, a benefit claims adviser. Opinions were sought from two doctors, who confirmed that Smith experienced significant difficulty and pain when completing simple movements and daily activities.
A note written by one of them stated: “It is my opinion that Mr Smith could not walk 20 metres without pain or exhaustion.”
The opinions were submitted as evidence to bolster Smith’s case, but in January last year his appeal was rejected by the DWP. It informed him that he had not scored the requisite number of points to be deemed as having limited capability for work.
His ESA was only reinstated 12 months later when a judge saw Smith’s condition for himself. Smith had been forced to get a pass to discharge himself from hospital, where he was being treated for pneumonia, in order to attend the tribunal and fight his case.
A DWP spokesperson said: “Our thoughts are with the family and friends of Stephen Smith.

“We are committed to ensuring that people with health conditions get the support they’re entitled to.”
https://www.theguardian.com/society/2019/apr/21/stephen-smith-liverpool-seriously-ill-emaciated-man-denied-benefits-dwp-dies

Whoever deemed Stephen Smith fit to work should be prosecuted for manslaughter (‘the unlawful killing of a human being without any deliberation, which may be involuntary, in the commission of a lawful act without due caution and circumspection.’) but oh he or she will be protected, Tory filth no more  give a fuck about democracy or accountability, any more than the  Labour filth.

All of this of course is about fundamental contempt for people, people as property, people as pawns on a chessboard to act however suits their masters, people as animals, people as bodies who need feeding, housing, clothing, heating and should therefore bend their entire lives to meeting those needs, have no right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.

The Rees-Moggs of the world find happiness in piling up money.  They must be pretty boring little people.  Cut to Ford Prefect addressing the Vogon guard.

The Vogon guard dragged them on. ``Don't you worry,'' said Ford, ``I'll think of something.'' He didn't sound hopeful. ``Resistance is useless!'' bellowed the guard. ``Just don't say things like that,'' stammered Ford. ``How can anyone maintain a positive mental attitude if you're saying things like that?'' ``My God,'' complained Arthur, ``you're talking about a positive mental attitude and you haven't even had your planet demolished today. I woke up this morning and thought I'd have a nice relaxed day, do a bit of reading, brush the dog ... It's now just after four in the afternoon and I'm already thrown out of an alien spaceship six light years from the smoking remains of the Earth!'' He spluttered and gurgled as the Vogon tightened his grip. ``Alright,'' said Ford, ``just stop panicking.'' ``Who said anything about panicking?'' snapped Arthur. ``This is still just the culture shock. You wait till I've settled down into the situation and found my bearings. Then I'll start panicking.'' ``Arthur you're getting hysterical. Shut up!'' Ford tried desperately to think, but was interrupted by the guard shouting again. ``Resistance is useless!'' ``And you can shut up as well!'' snapped Ford. ``Resistance is useless!'' ``Oh give it a rest,'' said Ford. He twisted his head till he was looking straight up into his captor's face. A thought struck him. ``Do you really enjoy this sort of thing?'' he asked suddenly. The Vogon stopped dead and a look of immense stupidity seeped slowly over his face. ``Enjoy?'' he boomed. ``What do you mean?'' ``What I mean,'' said Ford, ``is does it give you a full satisfying life? Stomping around, shouting, pushing people out of spaceships ...'' The Vogon stared up at the low steel ceiling and his eyebrows almost rolled over each other. His mouth slacked. Finally he said, ``Well the hours are good ...'' ``They'd have to be,'' agreed Ford. Arthur twisted his head to look at Ford. ``Ford, what are you doing?'' he asked in an amazed whisper. ``Oh, just trying to take an interest in the world around me, OK?'' he said. ``So the hours are pretty good then?'' he resumed. The Vogon stared down at him as sluggish thoughts moiled around in the murky depths. ``Yeah,'' he said, ``but now you come to mention it, most of the actual minutes are pretty lousy. Except ...'' he thought again, which required looking at the ceiling --- ``except some of the shouting I quite like.'' He filled his lungs and bellowed, ``Resistance is ...'' ``Sure, yes,'' interrupted Ford hurriedly, ``you're good at that, I can tell. But if it's mostly lousy,'' he said, slowly giving the words time to reach their mark, ``then why do you do it? What is it? The girls? The leather? The machismo? Or do you just find that coming to terms with the mindless tedium of it all presents an interesting challenge?'' ``Er ...'' said the guard, ``er ... er ... I dunno. I think I just sort of ... do it really. My aunt said that spaceship guard was a good career for a young Vogon --- you know, the uniform, the low-slung stun ray holster, the mindless tedium ...'' ``There you are Arthur,'' said Ford with the air of someone reaching the conclusion of his argument, ``you think you've got problems.'' Arthur rather thought he had. Apart from the unpleasant business with his home planet the Vogon guard had half-throttled him already and he didn't like the sound of being thrown into space very much. ``Try and understand his problem,'' insisted Ford. ``Here he is poor lad, his entire life's work is stamping around, throwing people off spaceships ...'' ``And shouting,'' added the guard. ``And shouting, sure,'' said Ford patting the blubbery arm clamped round his neck in friendly condescension, ``... and he doesn't even know why he's doing it!'' Arthur agreed this was very sad. He did this with a small feeble gesture, because he was too asphyxicated to speak. Deep rumblings of bemusement came from the guard. ``Well. Now you put it like that I suppose ...'' ``Good lad!'' encouraged Ford. ``But alright,'' went on the rumblings, ``so what's the alternative?'' ``Well,'' said Ford, brightly but slowly, ``stop doing it of course! Tell them,'' he went on, ``you're not going to do it anymore.'' He felt he had to add something to that, but for the moment the guard seemed to have his mind occupied pondering that much. ``Eerrrrrrmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm ...'' said the guard, ``erm, well that doesn't sound that great to me.'' Ford suddenly felt the moment slipping away. ``Now wait a minute,'' he said, ``that's just the start you see, there's more to it than that you see ...'' But at that moment the guard renewed his grip and continued his original purpose of lugging his prisoners to the airlock. He was obviously quite touched. ``No, I think if it's all the same to you,'' he said, ``I'd better get you both shoved into this airlock and then go and get on with some other bits of shouting I've got to do.'' It wasn't all the same to Ford Prefect after all. ``Come on now ... but look!'' he said, less slowly, less brightly. ``Huhhhhgggggggnnnnnnn ...'' said Arthur without any clear inflection. ``But hang on,'' pursued Ford, ``there's music and art and things to tell you about yet! Arrrggghhh!'' ``Resistance is useless,'' bellowed the guard, and then added, ``You see if I keep it up I can eventually get promoted to Senior Shouting Officer, and there aren't usually many vacancies for non-shouting and non-pushing-people-about officers, so I think I'd better stick to what I know.'' They had now reached the airlock --- a large circular steel hatchway of massive strength and weight let into the inner skin of the craft. The guard operated a control and the hatchway swung smoothly open. ``But thanks for taking an interest,'' said the Vogon guard. ``Bye now.'' He flung Ford and Arthur through the hatchway into the small chamber within. Arthur lay panting for breath. Ford scrambled round and flung his shoulder uselessly against the reclosing hatchway. ``But listen,'' he shouted to the guard, ``there's a whole world you don't know anything about ... here how about this?'' Desperately he grabbed for the only bit of culture he knew offhand --- he hummed the first bar of Beethoven's Fifth. ``Da da da dum! Doesn't that stir anything in you?'' ``No,'' said the guard, ``not really. But I'll mention it to my aunt.'' If he said anything further after that it was lost. The hatchway sealed itself tight, and all sound was lost but the faint distant hum of the ship's engines. They were in a brightly polished cylindrical chamber about six feet in diameter and ten feet long. ``Potentially bright lad I thought,'' he said and slumped against the curved wall. Arthur was still lying in the curve of the floor where he had fallen. He didn't look up. He just lay panting. ``We're trapped now aren't we?'' ``Yes,'' said Ford, ``we're trapped.'' ``Well didn't you think of anything? I thought you said you were going to think of something. Perhaps you thought of something and didn't notice.'' ``Oh yes, I thought of something,'' panted Ford. Arthur looked up expectantly. ``But unfortunately,'' continued Ford, ``it rather involved being on the other side of this airtight hatchway.'' He kicked the hatch they'd just been through. ``But it was a good idea was it?'' ``Oh yes, very neat.'' 

Yes, people have escaped from worse predicaments than my own.  Now if I can just get the receiver working.  Come in, Heart of Gold, do you read me?

Think it was Tim Leary who said, some of us are looking to the stars in the hope of finding someone interesting to talk to.